One Soldier’s Life
by Roy Widing
On a cold and rainy evening Near an old and sunken grave Sounds a trumpet’s simple, solemn tune Respects paid to the brave
Mere interest on a huge debt owed For the biggest sacrifice Through terror, sorrow, untold pain Fire, smoke and ice
This soldier, many never knew But he was someone’s son And gave the promise of his youth Now he’s the greater one
His battleground was far from home He fought to keep us free While many men spend lives on self This man gave his for me
So many never made it back They rest on foreign soil Such gallant men I’ll not forget For they define what’s loyal
Graves very often mention The place where brave men fell For others, we may never know As only God can tell
Location matters little For lives they nobly gave Near forest, field or desert In air, or watery grave
This young man Left his loved ones home War pulled those lives apart And left his fractured family With but a broken heart
One soldier’s life speaks loud for those Now silent through the years This brave man’s sacred resting place I wash with grateful tears
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13
Lest we not forget the Veterans of World War II... The 'Official Hancock CV/CVA-19 Poem
Lads, you hold to the annals of courage The hooks with Honor bound.
And you roll the names that you read there And faith, 'tis a pleasant sound.
Then think as you're walking the foc'cle The HANNAH Hull down on the sea;
Think of the men who man Her - And the men who memory be.
Aye, feel of the throb of Her innards And look't the sweep of Her prow.
And know by the likes of your feelings There's trouble ahead of Her bow.
Then know that the fleet's a-waiting For Her and your kind in the West;
Aye lad, when they've need of full courage, The HANNAH will rank with the best
They'll tell of Her guns and Her skippers.. The tales of "WAY BACK WHEN"
And each of those lines will be singing The praises of gallant men.
They'll write of a mad Old Lady Who was always willing to fight;
Who spit at the foe until sundown And searched for it through the night.
Then think, If your soul is Christian And allowing someday you'll die:
I hope when it comes that I'll find Her OLD HANNAH afloat in the sky.
Then lad you can sail for centuries.. No watches and double sea pay,
And the sailors of Heaven will envy you.. You men of the Fighting HANNAH today!
The 'Official Hancock CV/CVA-19 Poem - 1945 by Lt. George 'Hector' Rodgers - Fighting Squadron 6 - Originally submitted by 'Hector' who called himself an "Overpaid Sailor" - and contributed to this Site by Capt Herschel Pahl, USN (Ret), our WWII Representative and Author of 'Point Option' - a wonderful Epic seen through the eyes of a Naval Aviator, during the War in the Pacific.
1: Sally.
Five boxes wide by eight, two your rank and name, two messages a week - one mine, one for your Mum,
tucked brown in your locker no grammar no commas no complex feelings: dyed my hair red got the job yay.
2: Carla
Great cracks, rats, these things happen when you're at sea - it's me who handles it.
Takes two weeks to knit our lives together, third week's lovely, by the fourth you're out there in your mind, I think just go then.
3: Shelly
My mother tried to make me understand, but being lonely wasn't in my world – I grew up in a pub,
not this big north-facing house. Let's next time say bye at the door. I can't wave off the boat again.
4: Viv
In a cold bucket of water vibrating on torpedo tubes, you wash your pants, try to find an empty bed
still warm from the one before you, you read this... I try to see you - are you still the same?
5: Anne
It gets tedious boxing up my week, into the void. But you ticked the box saying no bad news thanks - why would you want it,
down there? So silence would mean bad news, but here's my good news: no news.
6: Alice
You left a baby who had trouble rolling over. You'll find him on a chair, standing, apron round his middle,
sleeves at elbows, washing dishes, and won't believe your eyes - not your son, standing, washing, not our own magic trick!
7: Margaret
You'd be in a mess of guys, the loneliest person in the world - have to break out the ballast brick
fruit cake I made to stop the aching. That's how I'm thinking of it now: a long deployment, not dead.
I'm the galloping ghost of the Japanese coast You don't hear of me and my crew.
But just ask any man off the coast of Japan If he knows of the Trigger Maru.
I look sleek and slender alongside my tender With others like me at my side,
But we'll tell you a story of battle and glory, As enemy waters we ride.
I've been stuck on a rock, felt the depth charge's shock, Been north to a place called Attu,
and I've sunk me two freighters atop the equator Hot work, but the sea was cold blue.
I've cruised close inshore and carried the war to the Empire Island Honshu,
While they wire Yokahama I could see Fujiyama, So I stayed, to admire the view.
When we rigged to run silently, deeply I dived, And within me the heat was terrific.
My men pouring sweat, silent and yet Cursed me and the whole damned Pacific.
Then destroyers came sounding and depth charges pounding My submarine crew took the test.
Far in that far off land there are no friends on hand, To answer a call of distress.
I was blasted and shaken (some damage I've taken), my hull bleeds and pipe lines do, too
I've come in from out there for machinery repair, And a rest for me and my crew.
I got by on cool nerve and in silence I served, Though I took some hard knocks in return,
One propeller shaft sprung and my battery's done, But the enemy ships I saw burn.
I'm the galloping ghost of the Japanese coast, You don't hear of me and my crew.
But just ask any man off the coast of Japan, If he knows of the Trigger Maru.
USS Trigger was lost with all hands during her twelfth patrol, on March 26, 1945. Toll the bell...
"Toll the bell, you submariners, for your brethren of the deep. Who went to sea so long ago and still their constant vigil keep.
Tell the nation who they are and where they lie beneath the sea. Keep the faith with those brave comrades who patrol eternally...
"...Toll the bell for Shark and Grunion, gallant warriors of the sea Toll the bell for brave Pompano, Grenadier, and Tullibee.
Sing your praises for the Thresher, Grayling and the Amberjack. And for all the men who perished, mothers’ sons who won’t come back..."
And finally one of my favorites:
SUBMARINER U.S.N.
TO MY DYING DAY, I’LL BE PROUD TO SAY, THAT I SAILED IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA.
FOR YOU’LL EARN YOUR KEEP, WHEN YOU TAKE HER DEEP, WHERE KING NEPTUNE WAITS FOR THEE.
NO HAZE GRAY, TO PITCH AND SWAY, AND CHUM THE OCEAN BLUE.
FOR SURFACE SHIPS, ARE JUST TARGET BLIPS, WHEN SPIED BY A SUBMARINE CREW.
TO YOUNG FOR FEAR, BUT NOT FOR BEER, WE’D PULL INTO SUBIC BAY.
AND NEVER TELL, HOW MUCH SAN MIGUEL, YOU CAN DRINK ON A SAILORS PAY.
WITH BAR FINES PAID AND KEELS WELL LAID, YOU DRINK YOUR LAST RED HORSE.
THERE’S WORK NEEDS DONE, YOU’VE HAD YOUR FUN, NOW SAILOR SET YOUR COURSE.
AT SEA AT NIGHT, THE MOON GLOWS BRIGHT, AND YOUR EYES PLAY TRICKS WITH YOU.
AND SAILORS DRINK A TOAST TO A MERMAID’S GHOST, AND THEIR DREAMS THEY ALL COME TRUE.
I’VE HEARD THE ROAR, OF THE OCEAN SHORE, AND WEAR THESE FISH WITH PRIDE.
FOR THE MANY MATES, WHO MET THEIR FATE, FOR FREEDOM’S PRICE THEY DIED.
By John Chaffey SSN639, SSN687, SSBN619
Respectfully,
Henry
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